


Five Things Carson and Rodney Share (And Never Thought They Would)

by MistressKat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, five things fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Carson and Rodney Share (And Never Thought They Would)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausica2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nausica2).



> Prompt: Five Things Carson and Rodney Share (And Never Thought They Would).

**1.** Two weeks after moving together, Rodney staggers to the bathroom, enjoying the rare pre-caffeine silence inside his head. He grapples for the toothbrush, firmly avoiding the mirror.

Thirty seconds later Carson weaves in, still half asleep. He slaps Rodney’s ass absentmindedly as he squeezes around him and then lifts the toilet seat, proceeding to take a long, loud morning piss. 

Rodney blinks, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and watches Carson lean against the wall with one hand, the other holding his flaccid cock above the toilet bowl.

It should be gross and all kinds of wrong, but somehow it’s not. 

Rodney spits into the sink, white whorls of toothpaste disappearing sluggishly, and sniffs his armpits. He could get away with not showering today but Carson’ soft murmur of pleasure and the sound of water hitting warm skin convince him otherwise.

 

***

 

**2.** “You gave me _alien mono_?” 

“Keep your voice down, Rodney!” Carson hisses, casting a nervous glance around him. “I did _not_ give you alien mono. It’s some sort of bacterial infection. Completely different from mononucleosis, which is caused by Epstein-Barr virus and as such--”

“Do I look like I care?” Rodney’s hands wrap themselves around the lapels of Carson’s white jacket, shaking him forcefully. “You. Gave. Me. _Alien mono_. Which you got from some filthy, slutty, under-aged--” 

“_Hey!_ She was not under-aged. Besides, it’s not like I did something wrong. _She_ kissed _me_. Apparently it was a show of respect and gratitude.” And despite the alien mo… bacterial infection, Carson can’t help but feel good about that. It’s not everyday he gets to treat illnesses that are actually curable.

Rodney’s face is turning an alarming shade of red so Carson hurries on, patting at the tense shoulders in what he hopes is a consoling manner. “Don’t worry, the antibiotics should kick in soon. There might me some moderate swelling but--“ 

“_Swelling?_”

Carson winces, fighting the urge to clap hands to his ears as Rodney’s voice reaches scales only trained opera singers should attempt.

 

***

 

**3.** “Dammit, dammit, Rodney, come on.” Sheppard pushes down hard, one hand on top of the other, “One-two-three” counting it out loud “four-five. Go.” 

Carson can’t talk. All his breath is swallowed by Rodney’s lungs, expanding and inflating steadily as he forces the air inside.

He’s not thinking about the minutes ticking by, blood growing darker from lack of oxygen. He’s not thinking about the two-mile trek to the gate or how long it would take if they have to carry… He is not thinking. 

One and hold – lips meeting lips – two and hold – and his chest hurts from the strain.

How ironic that this kiss should make him as dizzy as all the others before it.

 

***

 

**4.** “God, that’s disgusting.” Carson follows Rodney’s gaze to the next table where one of the new military grunts lounges, surrounded by what appears to be his own personal fan club. 

Beside him, Rodney keeps shovelling food into his mouth at a steady pace – not that it does anything to keep him quiet. “I mean, what do they see in him?”

From the cover of his juice glass Carson gives the man – boy really, God, he can’t be a day over twenty – a quick once over. Blond hair mocking regulation length, bright grey eyes, cheekbones sharp enough to chip ice. He can’t make out much more from where he’s sitting, but the odds are good that the rest is as annoyingly perfect. 

Carson recognises at least three members of his staff among the entourage and wonders whether they’re after the man’s virtue or a sample of his DNA. Genes like that are nothing to be sneered at.

“I mean, sure, he’s pretty.” His attention switches back to Rodney who is still talking, barely pausing to chew his dinner. “But so clearly aware of it that I wouldn’t fuck him if he was the last man on-- uh.” 

Carson blinks in surprise, slowly lowering his fork. Rodney looks like he wants to swallow his own tongue and Carson thinks he might actually start hyperventilating if he doesn’t do something soon.

“Aye, I have to agree with you there,” he murmurs, aiming for nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. 

“You…what?” Rodney gawps at him like a startled owl.

“Personally, I like my men with a bit more substance. And brains.” He hesitates for a moment then, unsure whether to push things that one step further. “Someone I can be friends with. Good friends.” He holds Rodney’s eyes, determined not to back down now. 

For a few seconds Rodney’s mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. Then he visibly shakes himself, returning Carson’s look with intent. “Yeah,” he says, voice unexpectedly rough. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

***

 

**5.** Pale dawn creeps in through the kitchen curtains, half open and billowing in the morning breeze. Rodney reaches over and extracts the arts and science section from the back of the newspaper, leaving the rest for Carson. 

The house is silent this early on a Sunday, the hum of air conditioning filling in the empty places between the seconds. Rodney gets up to pour himself another cup of coffee and then returns to the table. There’s a science fair at the local high school that might be worth a look. It’s never too early to start recruiting.

Carson smiles at him briefly over his half of the paper, before going back to reading. He has toast crumbs at the corners of his mouth and jam stains on his t-shirt, put there by tiny enthusiastic hands. 

Rodney glances at the clock and estimates they have at least another half an hour of peace and quiet left to themselves. There’s a rustle of paper as Carson turns a page, the dusting of silver in his hair catching the sun.

 


End file.
